Frater
by MikiMoke
Summary: Lighthunters and Shadowhunters have always been at each other's throats. After so many years of conflict, they have called a treaty, and are now living in a somewhat peaceful coexistence. But when Jim Graceland and Jace Wayland are spotted killing a demon in Pandemonium, a dastardly plot against both species slowly reveals itself.
1. Prologue

**Finally decided to do it. 'It' in question is making an AU fic to MI, with my own species in it. Those who have read Clockwork Demon, you'll know that my species is called a Demonum, and that they are pretty much the opposite of Nephilim. However, the relationship between Shadowhunters and Lighthunters has changed since the late 1800's, and you'll find out here.**

**My main three Demonum are James (based off of my OC, James, from Toy Soldiers), Lincoln, and Tabitha. I hope you enjoy it~!**

**~Miki**

**...**

**PROLOGUE: SHADOWS AND LIGHTS**

Nothing mattered more than the kill; the kill that Link was waiting for for the whole day. In his head, playing over and over, were multiple ways of finishing the job. Multiple ways to be a murderer among his kind. Well, the remaining of his kind that still wanted their counterparts dead.

He heard his _frater_ move swiftly beside him, passing the older boy as though he weren't even there. Lincoln gave chase, his desire to deal the final blow overcoming him.

The boys leapt up onto the rooftops of the houses nearby, the moonlight illuminating their path. The city was bright, but the smaller parts were just that little bit brighter, with lunar power beating the emissions those light bulbs threw out each time they were used.

Lincoln could just hear Tabby's chastising voice in the back of his head: "Don't be a hypocrite, Link!"

Maybe he was being a hypocrite. But he didn't care right now. All that mattered was the kill.

His feet sped up their running, his every footstep as silent as a breeze, and his nocturnal eyes focused on the shape ahead of him, working just as hard as him to catch the creature. The figure was his _frater_, the boy's distinctive crimson glow lighting the way. This glow was not for human eyes, nor the eyes of Shadowhunters. It was for the Lighthunters and their demonic eyes.

A stench ever so familiar filled the air – the stench of demon. All that mattered was the kill...

Lincoln gained even more speed, finally catching up to his _frater_ and slowly creeping past him. The crimson glow was right in Link's eye, the light too bright for him to handle. He struggled to switch off his sight, returning to his normal, mundane vision, and continued on. The _frater_ was right behind him, the message in Link's gain of speed clear enough to understand.

All that mattered was the kill.

The stench was suddenly overpowering, rushing toward him quicker than he had expected. Link skidded to a stop, but it was too late; the demon pounced, appearing out of nowhere and tackling him off of the roof. The two creatures landed on the hard ground with grunts, but Link didn't let that stop him. He rolled to his front and stood on all fours, snarling at the demon. The demon all but snarled back, baring its sharp, saliva-soaked teeth.

There was another grunt, this time from Lincoln's _frater_. He dropped to the ground, another demon with him, and he copied his comrade in hopes of striking fear into the monsters. The demons were not fazed a bit by them, only began to circle them like predators sizing up their prey.

Link's demonic sight kicked in, a bright gold shimmer coming from the rooftops behind them. All that mattered was the kill, but the kill was about to be stolen.

Three Shadowhunters, all known by the Lighthunters, dropped from where they had been perched, their golden glow slightly blinding Link. It was like looking in the sun with sunglasses on – you could dare a look, but not a stare. He switched off his sight and returned to normal, watching as the only girl in the group lashed at one of the demons with her electrum whip. The demon shrieked in pain, tried to run, but was stopped when the golden-haired Shadowhunter drove a seraph blade into its head. A hint of dark, sludge-like blood shot out, just barely missing the golden boy's skin, and then the creature began to fold.

The last Shadowhunter approached his _parabatai_ and his sister quickly, making sure they were okay as Link and his _frater_ sized up the remaining demon, throwing the predatory treatment back at it.

Lincoln pounced, tackling the demon and throwing both him and the creature into the shadows, Link's _frater_ following swiftly. The demon went to fight back, sink its claws into Link's back, but Link simply grinned and opened his mouth wide, his teeth digging into the thing's shoulder. With a vice grip, Link ripped his mouth away from the shoulder. Flesh tearing filled his ears, followed by a yelp of pain from the demon. Acidic tastes of the creature's blood filled his mouth, but it didn't wipe away the smile on his face.

The kill hadn't been stolen. The kill still mattered.

Link's _frater_ joined in, landing on the demon and pounding away at its back, breaking at least one bone along the spine with every three slam of his fists. There was a devilish smile on his face, proof that he enjoyed this as much as Link. There was an endless supply of demons to do this to – more than there were Shadowhunters.

The demon soon began to fold away, crackling with each fold as it returned to its home dimension. Link stood, a grin on his face, as his _frater_ cracked his knuckles.

"You guys really don't hold back, do you?" the golden boy's voice remarked, footsteps of the Shadowhunters approaching them casually. Link turned to face them, blood smeared all over his lower-face and neck, only to give them a smirk.

"We don't have to rely on weapons or runes to fight, Nephilim," he teased. "Jealous?"

Link's _frater_ scoffed, joining his side and licking a small scrape on his wrist. "Don't mock them, Lincoln," he warned. "They'll blind you with their glory, if you do."

Link let out a "_Pfft_" and began to walk. The three Shadowhunters and his _frater_ followed. "Nothing but an old wives' tale, James," he said mockingly. He wiped a bit of the demon blood from his chin, frowning at the sight of it. "Let's go home – I'm hungry."

...

**So that's the prologue. Please, please, PLEASE let me know what you think. I have so many things I'm writing that get favourited but not reviewed. Don't be afraid to review.**


	2. Chapter 1

**I hope everyone enjoyed the prologue, and here's the first chapter. Also, just to explain the 'frater' thing: frater is Latin for 'brother'. Shadowhunters call their brothers in arms **_**parabatai**_**, and Lighthunters more or less do the same, only they call the men their **_**frater**_** and the women their **_**sorer**_**. Like Shadowhunters, they have to get a **_**frater **_**or **_**sorer**_** before they are eighteen. If there's any other info needed, just let me know and I'll explain.**

* * *

**ONE: THE GIRL THAT CRIED "HUMAN"**

"You've got to be kidding me," the bouncer said as he crossed his arms over his chest. The blue-haired boy he was staring down at seemed to be causing a disturbance based on his appearance, and Clary Fray was eager to see why. Although, trying to get a look from where she was standing didn't seem to be doing any good. Around fifty teenagers trying to get into the same place at once? Her chances of seeing what was wrong were as slim as an anorexic stick insect.

"Aw, come on," the boy cooed. At least she could still hear him. He raised what was in his hand – an object that looked like a wooden beam, one end sharpened like a spear. "It's part of my costume."

"Which is what?"

He simply grinned and said, "Vampire hunter." As though proving a point, he pressed onto the tip of the sharpened end, the beam squishing under the pressure. "See? Foam rubber – it's fake."

The bouncer raised an eyebrow, but let him in anyway. Clary's friend, Simon, nudged her shoulder with his elbow. His brown eyes were teasing, but in a friendly way. "You thought he was cute, didn't you?"

Clary took a moment to think about her answer, but only opted to give him an elbow to the rib. The boy they'd seen was cute, she had to admit; his eyes were quite peculiar, when she thought about it, being that strange, antifreeze-green colour.

Their time came to enter, and Clary's eyes immediately went in search of Blue Hair as she walked around with Simon to find a spot to dance – or what could pass for dancing. If anything, she looked like she'd dropped a contact lens or a bit of gum. Something small and easily dropped.

The heat in the room was a little hard to bear, and Clary could only guess that it was because of the many people and their body heat. After five minutes she was already sweating, bits of her bright red hair sticking to her cheeks and forehead.

"So," Simon said, trying to start a conversation, "pretty good music, eh?"

Clary didn't reply, her eyes still looking for Blue Hair. It wasn't long until she spotted him, searching about as though he were looking for something. Simon was still trying to get her attention.

"I, for one," he went on, "am enjoying myself immensely."

"Mmm-hmm." It wasn't hard to figure out that Simon didn't enjoy being at the Pandemonium. Unlike everyone else dancing, he looked like he was about to head over to the chess club rather than join the Dark Side.

Blue Hair was walking away from the dance floor, seeming a little lost. Clary couldn't help but feel the urge to go over and introduce herself, offer to show him around or keep him company. Then again, he'd probably laugh at her... But what if he was as shy as she was?

Blue Hair's eyes landed on someone, his form straightening as he watched them. Clary's eyes followed, her spirits deflated when she caught sight of her. Her long, silky black hair was loose and trailing around her, some parts sticking to her skin from the sweat. The white dress she wore was elegant, only able to be pulled off with someone of her figure and beauty. Around her neck was a ruby necklace, seemingly pulsing with each light that passed over it. It was like a second heart that resided outside of her body.

_Oh, well_, Clary thought, trying to be a good sport. _I guess that's that_.

"I feel," Simon went on, "that DJ Bat is doing a singularly exceptional job. Don't you agree?"

Clary didn't reply, didn't even glance his way as she watched Blue Hair and Pretty Girl approach each other. As though acting like a tease, Pretty Girl turned with a smile and walked in another direction, Blue Hair following her without question. He was so transfixed on the girl that he hadn't noticed anything else around him – not even the two darkly-dressed boys following.

As her dancing slowed, Clary watched further. One of the boys turned – the dark-haired one – and briefly met her eye across the crowd of dancers. He gave her a mischievous smile as he and his blonde friend followed Blue Hair and Pretty Girl.

"Meanwhile," Simon added, "I wanted to tell you that lately I've been cross-dressing. Also, I'm sleeping with your mom. Just wanted you to know."

Pretty Girl had finally reached a room, a door in front of it boldly stating _NO ADMITTANCE_. As soon as Blue Hair was close enough, she opened the door and slipped through it. If Clary's hopes had been deflated earlier, then they were melting into the ground like hopeless black sludge now. It wasn't unusual that couples would go into rooms to make out, maybe play around a little – but two guys dressed in black following them? That was just downright strange...

She stood on her tiptoes as she tried to get a better look at what was happening, once again meeting the eye of the dark-haired one. This time he didn't give her a mischievous smile. This time he poked his tongue out and snuck inside the room, leaving the door partially open for his friend to follow. The blonde one reached into his jacket, pulling out something that shone as light passed over it. A knife.

"Simon!" Clary suddenly burst out. Simon jumped, shocked and not expecting her to respond to him.

"What?" An alarmed look passed over his face. "I'm not really sleeping with your mom, you know. I was just trying to get your attention. Not that your mom isn't a very attractive woman for her age."

"Do you see those guys?" Clary pointed wildly toward where they were, almost hitting a curvy black girl that was dancing nearby. "Sorry – sorry!" She turned back to Simon. "Do you see those two guys over there? By the door?"

Simon squinted, eyes following in the direction she was pointing, and then he shrugged. "I don't see anything."

"There are two of them. They were following the guy with the blue hair–"

"The one you thought was cute?"

"Yes, but that's not the point. The blonde one pulled a knife."

"Are you _sure_?" Simon stared harder, shaking his head. "I still don't see anyone."

"I'm sure."

Simon squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest, suddenly all business. "I'll get one of the security guards. You stay here." And then he was off, striding through the crowd in search of help.

She turned back just in time to see the blonde boy slip through the door, closing it silently behind him. Clary looked around; Simon would take too long to get help, even if he tried his fastest to. He was still trying to make his way through the dance floor, too, but wasn't making much progress. No one would hear her if she yelled now. By the time Simon got back, something bad could already have happened. She bit hard on her lower lip, and then Clary began to wiggle through the crowd.

The moment she made it to the door, she pushed it open and stepped inside, closing it silently. It was so quiet in the room that she thought it was deserted. The only windows were high up and barred; faint street noise came through them. The noise was that of honking cars and squealing brakes. The room reeked of old paint, a heavy layer of dusk covering the floor and marked with smeared footprints.

_No one's in here_, she realised. She looked around in bewilderment. The room was cold, despite the August weather outside. She shivered, the sweat covering her turning chilly. She took a step forward, tangling her feet in electrical wires. Clary bent down to free her sneaker from the cables – and heard voices. A girl's laugh, a boy answering sharply. When she straightened up, she saw them.

It was as though they'd sprung into existence in the blink of an eye. There was Pretty Girl in her long white dress, her long black hair hanging down her back like damp seaweed. The two boys Clary had seen were with her – a tall one with black hair and grey eyes, a slight redness in the pupil seen even from the distance she was at, and a smaller, fair one, whose hair gleamed like brass in the dim light coming from the windows. The fair boy was standing with his hands in his pockets, facing Blue Hair, who was tied to a pillar with what looked like...piano wire?

Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she ducked behind one of the pillars. Grey Eyes turned his head her way, his eyes narrowing with a plot working in his mind. As though she were never there, he turned back to his friends and Blue Hair.

Fair Boy paced back and forth, arms now crossed over his chest. "So, he said. "You still haven't told me if there are any other of your kind with you."

_Your kind?_ Clary wondered what Fair Boy was going on about. Had she stumbled on some kind of gang war, or were they role-playing or something?

"I don't know what you're talking about." Blue Hair's tone was pained, but still managed to sound surly.

"He means other demons," Grey Eyes said, speaking for the first time. His voice was smooth, and probably hypnotic if used right. "You do know what a demon is, don't you?"

Blue Hair looked away from them, his mouth working. Grey Eyes looked to Fair Boy, a message exchanged between the two. Suddenly, they began to recite something.

"Demons," they both said in unison, drawing the word in the air with their index fingers. "Religiously defined as hell denizens, the servants of Satan, but understood here–"

"–For the purposes of the Clave–" Fair Boy said.

"–And the Consotio–" Grey Eyes said.

"–To be a malevolent spirit whose origin is outside our own home dimension–"

"That's enough, you two!" Pretty Girl hissed. Grey Eyes shrugged and slid his hands in his pockets.

With a subtle smile in Clary's direction, he replied, "Isabelle's right – none of us needs a lesson in semantics or demonology. Especially not this guy." His expression turned thoughtful. "Although, a review doesn't hurt, once in a while."

Pretty Girl – Isabelle – rolled her eyes.

_They're crazy_, Clary convinced herself. _Actually crazy_.

Fair Boy raised his head and smiled. There was something about the gesture that seemed so _fierce_, like a lion about to sniff the air for its prey. "Isabelle thinks I talk too much, and Jim talks just as much," he said to Blue Hair. "Do _you_ think we talk too much?"

Blue Hair's mouth was still working. "I could give you information," he said hurriedly. "Information about Valentine and where he is."

Jim seemed to visibly scowl in disgust when Fair Boy looked back to him, which was confirmation enough for him.

"We know where Valentine is," Fair Boy said. "He's in the ground. You're toying with us."

Isabelle tossed her hair. "Kill it, Jace," she said lazily. "It's not going to tell us anything."

Jace raised his hand, the object shining in the dim light as Clary watched it. The knife was oddly translucent, the blade clear like crystal, sharp like a shard of glass, the hilt set in red stones.

Blue Hair gasped. "Valentine is back!" he insisted, struggling under his bonds. "All the Infernal Worlds know it – I know it – I can tell you where he is–"

Rage flared in Jace's eyes, and the red in Jim's seemed to spread. "By the Angel, every time we capture one of you bastards, you claim to know where he is. Well, we know where he is too. He's in hell. And you–" Jace turned the knife in his grasp, the edge sparkling like a line of fire. "You can _join him there_."

Unable to take anymore, Clary came out from where she was hiding. "Stop!" she cried. "You can't do this."

Jim grinned at the sight of her while Jace and Isabelle stared, dumbfounded. Jace recovered quicker than Isabelle, meeting Jim's smiling eyes.

"How long?" he asked, voice in a monotone.

Jim's grin grew. "Majority of the time. I believe she also saw me poke my tongue at her when we came in, the stickybeak."

Isabelle gave him a confused stare, and then frowned. Jace was suddenly intrigued, staring at Clary with wide eyes. "She can see us," he noted. "A mundie girl can see us."

"Of course I can see you," Clary said. "I'm not blind, you know."

"Ah," Jim said, standing next to Jace with that same grin on his face, "but you are, girlie. You just don't know it." Removing the grin, he added, "Leave, if you know what's good for you."

Clary swallowed the fear that arose as the red in his pupils became clear to her. It was like a dim crimson glow in a dark room, slowly spreading. "I'm not going anywhere," she said. "If I do, you'll kill him." She pointed to Blue Hair, who had been entirely silent during this.

Grinning once more, Jim placed a hand over his heart. "Oh, I am touched that you would care about a creature like me and _it_," he cooed. "Emphasis on the 'it', by the way."

Jace took a turn to grin, amused by Jim's actions. "That's true," he said, replying to Clary. "But what do you care whether I kill him or not?"

Jim's grin fell, and a serious look was shot at Jace. "Who said _you_ were going to kill it?" he muttered.

"Be-because–" Clary sputtered. "You can't go around just killing people."

Now Jim raised an eyebrow. "Again, girlie, emphasis on the 'it'."

Ignoring his friend, Jace said, "You're right, you can't go around killing _people_." He pointed to Blue Hair. The boy's eyes were slitted, causing Clary to wonder if he'd fainted. "That's not a person, little girl. It may look like a person and maybe even bleed like a person. But it's a monster."

"_Jace, Jim_," Isabelle said warningly. "That's enough."

"You're crazy," Clary said, backing away from them. "I've called the police, you know. They'll be here any second."

"Liar, liar," Jim taunted, watching her like a hawk. "Besides–"

Jim was cut off as a screech came from Blue Hair, who tore free of the piano wire and lunged at Jim. "_Traitor!_" he shrieked. Jim turned around, half-finishing a curse, and then the two were on the floor, rolling about and trying to harm the other.

Blue Hair tore at Jim, slashing with hands that glittered as though tipped with metal. Clary backed up, wanting nothing more than to run from the sight, but her feet caught on the wiring and she went down, knocking the breath out of her chest. She could hear Isabelle shrieking. Clary rolled over, spotting Blue Hair sitting on Jim's chest. Blood gleamed at the tips of Blue Hair's razor-like claws.

Isabelle and Jace were running toward them, Isabelle brandishing a whip that looked like it was made of gold. Blue Hair slashed at Jim with his claws while Jim threw an arm up to protect himself. Blood, darker than Clary had expected, splattered out of Jim's wound as Blue Hair ripped at his arm. Blue Hair lunged again, only to have Isabelle's whip come down across his back. He shrieked and fell to the side, Jim cringing at the sound as his hands flew to his ears.

Jace held his knife ready, appearing at Blue Hair as quick as a flick of Isabelle's whip, and sank the knife into Blue Hair's chest. Blackish liquid exploded around the hilt as the other boy arched off of the floor. He was gurgling and twisting, writhing around. Jim slowly stood, grimacing, and cradled his arm. He slowly rolled up the sleeve of his jacket and assessed the damage, then proceeded to lick his wound. Clary resisted the urge to gag as Jace pulled the knife out of Blue Hair.

Blue Hair fixed his eyes on Jim, who stared at him while he licked his cuts. "_So be it, traitor_, "Blue Hair hissed. "_The Forsaken will take you all_."

Jim paused his licking and said, "Pleasant," before resuming the task once more. Blue Hair's eyes rolled back, body jerking a twitching as he crumpled, growing smaller and smaller as he folded in on himself. Clary watched in horror at what she was seeing, until Blue Hair vanished entirely.

She scrambled to her feet, kicking the electrical cords away. She tried to back away while none of them were paying attention to her. Jace was frowning at Jim, probably trying to get him to stop licking his wound. Clary turned to run, but found her way blocked by Isabelle, who was yet again in possession of her whip. The golden whip was stained with the dark fluid that had come from Blue Hair. She flicked it toward Clary, and the end wrapped itself around Clary's wrist and jerked tight. Clary gasped, both in pain and surprise.

"Stupid little mundie," Isabelle said between her teeth. Her eyes were full of anger. "You almost got Jim killed."

"He's crazy," Clary insisted. She tried to pull her hand away, but the whip cut deeper into her skin. "You're all crazy. What do you think you are, vigilante killers? The police–"

"The police aren't usually interested unless you can produce a body," Jace reminded her. He was looking away from Jim and watching her sternly. Jim sidestepped away from Jace, made his way over to Clary. He abandoned licking his wounds, but when Clary looked she saw that they were half-healed. She then glanced over to the spot where Blue Hair had been. Not even a smear of blood was there – there was no trace or evidence of Blue Hair ever being there.

"They return to their home dimension," Jim told her, standing next to Isabelle, "when they die – just to let you know, girlie."

"Jim," Isabelle hissed. "Be careful."

Jim ignored her, lazily turning his attention to Jace. The red gleams were still in his pupils, although duller.

"What should we do, Jace?" he asked casually. "Little mundie can see us, and she already knows too much."

"So what do you want to do with her?" Isabelle asked them both. She seemed agitated.

"Let her go," the boys said in unison. Isabelle's eyebrows shot up, an angry look passing over her, but she didn't argue with them. Clary's arm was freed as the whip slithered away from her, retreating back to its owner, Isabelle. She rubbed her sore wrist, wondering how she could get away.

"Or," Jim added, raising a finger and smiling that same mischievous smile Clary had seen before, "we could take her to the Institute. I bet the old fart would like to have a look-see at her."

Clary shuddered. Jim's smooth voice was the same as before, but a hint of sick amusement was in it.

"No way are we brining her back to the Institute," Isabelle objected. "She's a _mundie_."

"We've established that, Iz," Jim grumbled. Jace joined in again.

"Or is she?" he inquired softly. It was just as bad as Jim's earlier tone, when he'd assumed an older person they knew would want to take a 'look-see' at her. "Have you walked with warlocks, talked with the Night Children?"

A small smile tugged at Jim's lips. "Have you had dealings with demons, girlie, or even Demonum?"

"My name is not 'girlie'," Clary interrupted. "And I have no idea what you're talking about."

_Are you sure?_ a little voice asked in the back of her head. _You saw that boy vanish into thin air. Jace and Jim, not even Isabelle is crazy – you just wish they were._

"I don't believe in – in demons, or Demona, or whatever you–"

The small smile was gone, replaced by a look of annoyance. Jim went to correct her, only to hear, "Clary?"

She whirled around, spotting Simon standing by the storage room door. One of the burly bouncers was next to him. "Are you okay?" Simon asked. Her peered at her through the gloom. "Why are you in here by yourself? What happened to the guy – you know, the one with the knife?"

Clary stared at him, then looked behind her, where Jace, Jim, and Isabelle stood. Jim's arm was still wounded, but the blood was all gone, the long scratches...thinner. Spotting her eyes on him, Jim grinned with an amused glint in his grey eyes. He then shrugged, half-apologetic, half-mocking. He didn't seem fazed over the fact that only she could see them.

She must've looked ridiculous, standing on her own in a storage room, he feet tangled in plastic electrical wires. "I thought they went in here," she said lamely. "But I guess they didn't. I'm sorry." She glanced from Simon, whose expression was embarrassed, then to the bouncer, who looked annoyed. "It was a mistake."

Behind her, Isabelle giggled.

* * *

"I don't believe it," Simon said stubbornly. Clary, standing on the curb, was trying desperately to hail a cab. Street cleaners had come down Orchard while they were inside the club, and the street was glossed black with oily water.

"I know," she agreed. "You'd think there'd be _some_ cabs. Where is everyone going on a Sunday?" She turned back to Simon, shrugging. "You think we'd have better luck on Houston?"

"Not the cabs," Simon said. "You – I don't believe you. I don't believe the guy with the knife just disappeared."

Clary sighed. "Maybe there wasn't a guy with a knife, Simon. Maybe I just imagined the whole thing."

"No way." Simon raised his hand over his head, but oncoming taxis sped by him, spraying dirty water as they passed. "I saw your face when I came into the storage room. You looked seriously freaked out, like you'd seen a ghost."

She couldn't help but think back to them, think back to the three in the storage room and the way they'd acted. Isabelle, with her fierceness and annoyance to her companions. Jace, with his lion-like movements and soft voice. Jim, with his red-glinted pupils and his constant grins. She couldn't help but wonder what he was going to say, what he was going to correct her on before Simon interrupted.

Clary reached for her wrist, where Isabelle's whip had circled it. _Not a ghost_, she thought. _Something even weirder than that._

"It was just a mistake," she said wearily. Why wasn't she telling the truth? He'd probably think she was crazy. Besides, there was something about what happened – something about the black blood bubbling up around Jace's knife, something about the dark colour of Jim's blood, even something about both boys' voices when they'd asked her about having dealings with creatures and walking with warlocks and talking with the Night Children; she just wanted to keep it to herself.

"Well, it was a hell of an embarrassing mistake," Simon said. He glanced back at the club, a thin line of people waiting to get inside still reaching halfway down the block. "I doubt they'll ever let us in Pandemonium again."

"What do you care? You hate Pandemonium." Clary raised her hand again as the yellow shape of a taxi sped toward them. This time the taxi screeched to a halt at their corner, the driver pressing onto his horn as though he needed to get their attention.

"Finally, we get lucky." Simon yanked the taxi door open and slid into the back, sitting on the plastic-covered seat. Clary followed, inhaling the familiar smell of New York cabs: Old cigarette smoke, leather, and hair spray. "We're going to Brooklyn," Simon said to the cabbie, and then he turned to Clary. "Look, you know you can tell me anything, right?"

Clary was hesitant, but nodded. "Sure, Simon," she replied. "I know I can."

She slammed the door shut behind her and settled into the backseat, the taxi driving off into the night.

* * *

**Oke, first chapter (since that last one was the prologue) is up. Lemmie know what'cha think, and I'll put up more info about the Demonum terms and stuff (like why Jim was licking his wound in both this chapter and the last) in the next chapter. Hopefully it will explain more.**

**Also, to anyone interested, I am doing a SYOC for the Mortal Instruments. If you want to submit a character, look at the details on my profile for the character and the prologue in a fanfiction called "New Generation: SYOC".**

**~Miki**


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